My Immortal
by Maknatuna
Summary: Castiel knows what Dean's heaven looks like. Alternate version of 10X22 and what followed afterwards.


Before I update Under The falling Skies, here have something else :)

 **This fic has an unexpected twist. Be ready for the worst.**

* * *

It's a nice, warm day in Lebanon, Kansas, and the scents of freshly brewed coffee, cinnamon, and apple pie fill up the coffee shop they are visiting. After heavy rains, which brought nothing but mud and spoiled moods for everyone, it's nice to finally feel the warm rays of the sun again.

The coffee shop "Sweet Dreams" belongs to an old Dutch couple, Mr. and Mrs. Boedekers. Thank to their friendly, warm nature (and of course pies!) the place is always overcrowded with happy customers. It hasn't been all that long since Dean found the coffee shop, immediately deciding that Cas would love the place too.

"This is heaven," Dean hums as he leans against the back of his seat, slapping his full belly. This is the third slice of a cherry pie he's eating. He grins at Castiel who's sitting opposite him.

"Now I know what your Heaven looks like," the angel chuckles slightly.

"Yeah, eating tons of pies," Dean responds, the "with you" heavily implied.

"Thank you for letting me catch a glimpse of it," Castiel says seriously, which causes a burst of laughter from the older Winchester.

"Why aren't ya eating your pie, Cas? You don't like it or something?" Dean's gaze falls on the angel's plate with an untouched slice of pecan pie still sitting on it.

"No, I'm sure it's very delicious, Dean," Castiel begins but gets cut off.

"Bullshit, you don't have to lie to me. I can see that you don't like it. Let's get you something else then." And before Castiel objects Dean calls the waitress.

"Could you take this away and bring him a slice of the same pie I'm having? Oh, and add some whipped cream on top. He likes it." Dean smiles at the waitress – Natalie.

"Yeah, sure," she smirks, chewing her gum loudly while taking Castiel's plate away.

"That was not necessary, Dean," the angel says quietly.

"Of course it was," the hunter exclaims somewhat loudly, drawing attention from people around them. "If you don't like something say it. No need to suffer in silence."

"But I…" Castiel wants to argue when Natalie comes back with the slice of a cherry pie. Just like Dean ordered.

"There you go," she says and puts the plate on the table. "Anything else?"

"Nah, we're good and how much?" Dean digs into his pocket for his wallet.

After paying for their pies and coffee and leaving a good tip for the waitress, Dean's full attention is directed to the angel again.

"Cas, I never had time to apologize for what I did to you," Dean begins with a heavy sigh. And it's true. So many unexpected things had happened that he never got a chance to talk to the angel.

"Dean," Castiel begins softly. "I know it was not the real you doing that. You were under the Mark's control. Please don't blame yourself."

"I shouldn't have, Cas, I shouldn't have succumbed to its power. Beating you up was the last thing I would want to do. I'm so sorry." Dean's voice quivers.

"It's alright, Dean. I am not angry at you," Castiel answers with a smile, covering the hunter's hand with his palm.

"Thank you," Dean rasps, giving the angel a broken smile and squeezing his hand. "Alright, let's finish our pies and then I want to show you this tree that somehow reminds me of you."

"Reminds you of me? That sounds very interesting. I would love to see that tree." Castiel's eyes glitter with unearthly blue light.

"I knew you'd be interested," the older Winchester says gently, throwing a fond look at the angel. One day, he'll get the balls to tell Cas about his true feelings. But not today. The time hasn't come yet.

* * *

Sam Winchester is sitting on a bench in front of the coffee shop watching his brother inside and he feels like dying inside.

"Such a lovely day, don't you think so, Moose?" a thick British accent asks as Crowley materializes beside him on the bench.

Sam almost gets a heart attack, jumping slightly and glaring at the king of hell.

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" he snarls at the demon.

"Ah, just warming up my bones. And you?" The demon follows Sam's gaze. "Hmm, interesting. Spying on your brother?"

"It's not your business," the younger Winchester remarks angrily.

"Speaking of the older brother," Crowley squints his eyes, watching the older Winchester through the window. "What the hell is he doing?"

Sam does not answer. He does not want to and simply has no idea what to say.

"Moose, I asked what the hell your brother is doing? I can clearly tell that he is talking to someone but I can't see who." Crowley turns to Sam with a puzzled expression.

"It's Cas," Sam answers after an agonizing pause.

"Bullshit. Feathers isn't there. I'm not blind," the demon huffs.

"He's not there," Sam nods, feeling his eyes begin to burn. "He's in Dean's mind."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion and badly concealed worry are thick in Crowley's voice.

"A few days ago before Rowena was able to remove the Mark from Dean he went on a killing spree. Cas… Cas got to the bunker and they… had a fight." Sam's voice is shaking along with his hands.

Sensing that something horrible is about to be said, Crowley reaches into the inner pocket of his expensive suit, pulling out a small flask. After taking a sip of Craig the demon hands it to the younger Winchester, who accepts without hesitation.

"What happened next?" Crowley asks quietly, putting the flask back in the pocket.

Sam wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "They had a fight and Dean… he used the angel blade on him."

Crowley makes a choking sound in the back of his throat. Castiel had always been an annoying pain in his ass but as time passed he came to like and respect the feathery bastard.

"When I got back to the bunker I saw something which I hoped I'd never see in my life," Sam is not fighting his tears anymore. "Dean was kneeling near Cas' body with the blade in his hand. As soon as he saw me, he passed out. For three days and nights he was unconscious and when he finally woke up he said that the only thing he could remember was how he beat up Cas and how Castiel left afterwards. He doesn't know," Sam chokes out with a sob.

"But didn't his wings leave the marks on the floor?" mumbles Crowley.

"No. Because one of the ingredients needed for removing the Mark was the angel's grace and Cas gave his own to Rowena. We had Metatron's grace too but your mother said that it had to be a personal sacrifice from the angel who was in love with the bearer of the Mark," Sam shakes his head, feeling horrible.

Crowley closes his eyes, muttering something that sounds like " _Christ_ " and rubs his forehead.

"Did you take him to the doctor's?" the demon asks.

"Yes, after a big argument. I was told that due to some strong shocking event his brain refused to accept it, deciding to erase and alter it."

"Did you burn Castiel's body?" Crowley sounds genuinely upset.

"No. I buried him. Why are you asking?" Sam asks suspiciously.

"Don't burn him. He will need the body if he comes back." The king of Hell smiles bitterly.

"What are you talking about?" the younger Winchester turns to the demon.

"I'm sure he will find a way to come back. He can't stay away from the two of you, especially Dean, can he?"

"Yes, but," Sam begins but the demon is already gone.

A small breeze blows, tossing some leaves into Sam's face. He does not know what will happen tomorrow, or even today, but there is one thing he can do for Dean: put on a nonchalant mask and pretend that everything is fine, that they are fine.

 _That Cas is still with them._

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